


Seeking Anchor

by esteoflorien



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-31 15:00:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1033050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteoflorien/pseuds/esteoflorien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There has been something beautifully natural about the way things have changed between them, from a bout with illness and a game of cards to this moment of undressing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seeking Anchor

They are nervous; they avert their eyes as they undress. Isobel has already seen her nude, but as Violet was so ill she couldn’t possibly remember, they’re evenly matched. It’s a comforting thought. Isobel has told her that she finds her beautiful, but she knows that Violet won’t really believe her – if ever she will – until they’ve stood nude before each other and neither of them runs away. It’s strange, to have planned to make love like this; Isobel wonders what will happen when they do slip beneath the covers. Will she be allowed to hold Violet as they have done before, when they both were fully clothed? Will Violet ask to touch her, in that terribly formal _May I_ , and lay her hand on her breast? She is nervous now, more nervous than she’s been at any other time in this nascent love of theirs. It is made worse by the uncertainty.

There has been something beautifully natural about the way things have changed between them, from a bout with illness and a game of cards to this moment of undressing. This is but the last incarnation of the intimacy that has slowly grown between them, equally hindered and nurtured by them both. It was she who said she wanted to spend the night at the Dower House; Violet who asked her to share her bed, in a tentative voice that Isobel had not heard. They’re older now, and gone are the days of falling into bed in a whirlwind of passion. Isobel remembers how that kind of lust felt; she remembers searing kisses and burning desire and desperate need, and she feels none of that, now. She knows perfectly well that Violet doesn’t, either. Instead, she wishes to be close to Violet, as close as possible; she wants to share her warmth and show her love; perhaps she’s always felt this way. Hadn’t she arrived at Downton Abbey unmoored, and seeking anchor?

She finishes her undressing first, of course; she’s accustomed to it, in the first place, and she wears far less cumbersome clothes than does Violet. She hesitates, not knowing what to do with herself once she has laid her clothes across the chair.

Violet glances at her, startled. “Oh,” she says. “Oh, get into bed with you.”

Isobel sighs. She hadn’t expected it would be easy – nothing has ever been _easy_ with Violet, except perhaps the little moments that have caught her by surprise, like their games of cards. She dutifully peels back the sheet and slips into the bed, laying back against the pillows to watch Violet finish her undressing.

Across the room, Violet murmurs something she can’t hear.

“I’m sorry?” she asks, after a moment, because, as afraid as she is, she _must_ know what it is that Violet said.

“I said you’re too lovely to catch a chill,” Violet says. Her embarrassment colors her voice and her cheeks.

Isobel smiles. “Thank you.” She wants to add, _so are you_ , but Violet does not take kindly to echoed compliments. She must bide her time.

Violet removes her underthings with her back to the bed. “Shall I get the light?” she asks, speaking more to the draped window than to Isobel.

“If you like,” Isobel replies. She and Reginald had never made love with the lights on; granted, then, there had been no electricity. Still, it would not have occurred to them to keep the lamps lit. She finds that she wants to _see_ Violet as she touches her. Violet must as well, for she leaves the lights on and comes directly to bed, settling into her place. It’s a wondrous thing, Isobel reflects, that they each have a _place_. She has noticed, on those days when she does not spend the night at the Dower House, that her side of the bed lies untouched. She likes that, the fact that Violet leaves a space for her, even when she is not there.

“Here we are,” Violet says, after a moment.

“Here we are,” Isobel agrees. Violet’s right hand is resting above the coverlet, and she reaches for it, lacing their fingers together. “Who could have expected this?”

“Certainly neither of us,” Violet replies. “But I find I’m happy, you know. Happier than I’ve had cause to be in a very long time.”

Isobel squeezes her hand. “So am I.”

They fall silent, but it isn’t uncomfortable. Isobel matches her breathing to Violet’s, and surprises herself when she realizes that that simple action of bringing her own body in synchrony with Violet’s has stirred her arousal. She would have happy, she decides, to simply savor the warmth between her legs, to feel her desire again, but it isn’t enough, not with Violet lying beside her, not with her hand warm in Isobel’s own, not with their bare breasts so close together.

“May I?” she asks, turning to catch Violet’s eye.

“Please,” Violet replies. “I’d like that.” That phrase warms her through – she hadn’t said what she wanted to do, after all, and so Violet must trust her. It’s a heady feeling, knowing she’s finally won Violet’s trust after all these years.

She presses close to Violet, savoring her gasp when they finally touch. “I love you, you know,” she murmurs, her lips practically touching Violet’s.

“I do know that,” Violet replies. “I love you too.” She tilts her chin for a kiss, her lips gently pressing against Isobel’s, and Isobel feels the prick of tears behind her eyes at the beautiful, hesitant delicacy of it all.

Their lovemaking seems to blossom naturally after this first kiss, much to Isobel’s delight. Violet moves with her, her hands roaming over Isobel’s body, stroking her back and caressing her breasts. She is shy, at first, to offer her breasts to Violet. She knows what they look like, after all. She knows that they lie against her stomach where they once were full of life. She knows that her nipples are lined with wrinkles; she knows that they are slow to harden.

“Oh,” says Violet, cupping her breast in her hand. “Oh.” And her voice is filled with such wonder and surprise that Isobel can’t possibly be embarrassed by them any longer, and she does her best to give Violet the same gift.

They find, both of them, that there is pleasure yet in being touched, that there is joy and delight and such release in the caress of their hands and the shuddering of their climax. Isobel cries with the intimacy of it when she feels Violet come undone beneath her, her crux warming beneath her hand and her body shivering with her pleasure. She falls against Violet once they’ve finished, her head naturally finding its place on Violet’s shoulder. She smiles when Violet’s hand makes its way to her hair. They’re out of breath and, just as she had at the start, Isobel matches Violet’s cadence, falling asleep to her lover’s rhythm, wrapped in her warmth. 


End file.
